


Trick and Treat

by lowflyingidiom



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII (Video Game 1997)
Genre: Awkwardness, Developing Relationship, Fluff and Smut, Halloween Costumes, M/M, Oral Sex, Tifa is the best wingman, Unresolved Emotional Tension, incidental tickling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:07:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27303895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lowflyingidiom/pseuds/lowflyingidiom
Summary: A very happy Halloween, based onthis wonderful artwork by Mabs
Relationships: Reeve Tuesti/Barret Wallace
Comments: 2
Kudos: 11





	Trick and Treat

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tacotits](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tacotits/gifts).



> Thanks to Mabs for creating the all the adorable Barret/Reeve artwork that lives in my head and my heart long after my tumblr feed has carried it away.
> 
> Extra special thanks to my wonderful and long suffering beta [SandyMoonCat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SandyMoonCat), who in this particular case turned this around in half an hour at 2am, and is a goddam _champion_.

“I thought you weren’t back from Junon until next week?”

Barret stepped into the guest room above Tifa’s rebuilt 7th Heaven, pulling the door closed behind him reflexively. Reeve sat in the armchair across from him, clearly poised for his arrival after Cait Sith had sent him up to retrieve an item a few minutes before.

“I was able to finish early. I wanted to surprise you.” 

“Well,” Barret’s mouth turned up into a slow smile, “I’m surprised. You gonna come down and see everyone?” 

It took Barret a moment, in the low light of the bedside lamp, to notice that there was something unusual about the way Reeve was sitting, leaning forward in way that wasn’t precisely his norm. When he stood, it became clear that while the color of his clothing was the same as the formal attire he’d taken up after founding the WRO, the current outfit was considerably more ornate. 

“Black Mage?” Barret asked. 

Reeve nodded, stepping lightly as he closed the space between them. Barret’s eyes dropped to where a flash of skin appeared as the man walked, and realized that the costume included a high – _high_ – slit up the side. He grinned.

“And you,” Reeve said as he finally stood in front of him, “appear to be wearing tights.”

“Aww, come on,” Barret chided, “I’m Robin Hood! Steals from the rich and gives to the poor? Saves maidens in distress? Hmm, maybe overworked executives these days.” 

When they were close enough, Barret reached forward and pulled him into a tight hug, pressing his lips against the tender place behind Reeve’s ear at the same time that the man’s arms curled over his wide shoulders. 

“Well, Mr. Robin... Do you know, that was a cartoon Marlene had me watch. Many, _many_ times in fact.”

“She likes that one.” 

“I know. I think Robin Hood was portrayed as a fox, but you seem to be acting more like a wolf.” 

Barret’s fingers twitched against the bare skin of Reeve’s thigh where his hand had found the open leg of the robe, “Just can’t help myself I guess. Anyway,” here, his hand slid upward along the slit side of the costume in unconcealed delight, “I thought this was gonna be Halloween, not _Christmas_.” 

Reeve huffed a laugh and dropped his forehead onto Barret’s broad shoulder. He gathered himself as though about to say something, then remained silent. 

The intimacy was new between them, a fumbling thing that crept up on them both a few months before, frequently interrupted by the exigencies of their respective duties. 

When the silence stretched, Barret cleared his throat, withdrawing the fingers that had been questing up the side of his lover’s hip.

“Did you want to go down to the party?” 

“Huh?” Reeve pulled away marginally, “Oh, I think Cait Sith has that covered. And, ah, I don’t think that would be appropriate, dressed like this.”

“No, I guess not,” Barret replied laughing, then was alarmed when Reeve pulled away from him. 

“You... don’t like it.” 

“What? No,” Barret followed him as he retreated, grabbing him by the wrist before he could retreat even further, “No, I like it. I just didn’t expect it. I like it a _lot_.” 

Reeve coloured, his flush barely noticeable in the low light to someone who didn’t already know what to look for. It had been a revelation for Barret, after becoming accustomed to the fixed good humour of the cat, to learn how Reeve wore his thoughts so plainly on his face. 

“Are we going to be interrupted tonight?”

“Nah,” Barret answered, intuiting his meaning, “Marlene’s already sleeping off the excitement and the sugar crash. Denzel too, though he pretends he’s too old for it. They’ll be out until morning.” 

Barret slid his hand back under the robe to rub against the exposed skin there, then paused as something that hadn’t quite coalesced into a full thought the previous time clicked into place, “Did you shave your legs?” 

“No,” Reeve answered, glancing away, “Uhh, waxed, actually.” 

Barret felt his eyebrows rising of their own accord, and he traced the bare skin under his fingers with increased attention, “Huh. When did this happen?”

“Like I said, I wanted to surprise you. And Tifa –”

“Tifa did it for you?” Barret asked, temporarily horrified as his mind flooded with the image of the young woman wielding hot wax in what – from the feel of it – included some of his boyfriend’s more intimate areas. 

“Oh god no,” Reeve’s face crumpled with dismayed embarrassment, and dropped his face into his hands, “No, no, no. She recommended one of her friends who has a shop. Geez, can you imagine Tifa…?” 

“I’m trying hard not to,” Barret winced, but wondered in spite of himself what must have gone through the mind of this friend of Tifa’s when the leader of the WRO walked through the door of the shop, “So, she sent you to her friend. How was that?” 

“Honestly?” Reeve asked, and laughed with the tenor of a man who is realizing that the evening may not be going exactly the way he had planned, “Embarrassing. And Painful. Can we not talk about it right now?”

“Hmm,” Barret mused, letting his thumb circle on his partner’s newly smooth skin as he considered, “Nope, I gotta know. You went ahead and picked up this costume. And you did, ahh, _this_ ,” at that he slid his hand a little higher, so his thumb could trace the sensitive juncture hip and thigh, making Reeve shiver under the touch, “... you wearing anything under the robe?” 

“... No.” 

“Good,” Barret said, “Go lock the door.” 

Reeve did, with Barret’s gaze following him across the room, tracking the slide of robes over his legs. 

As the lock slid into place he turned to Barret, who prompted him, “Go on, on the bed.” 

“Awfully pushy,” Reeve told him, tone light and teasing, “I thought Robin Hood was supposed to be a good guy?” 

“Well,” Barret rumbled, “Then allow me to be chivalrous.”

He crossed the few steps to the door and bent to hook Reeve behind his knees, other arm around his shoulders as he lifted the smaller man into the air. Reeve made a noise of protest as the robe tangled and pinned his legs, and tossed his arms around Barret’s neck for support. 

“Warn me if you’re gonna do that!” Reeve admonished him, but Barret snorted a laugh and carried him the few feet to the bed. For a brief moment, Barret’s robotic hand ran the length of Reeve’s exposed thigh. 

Whether the new prosthetic had contributed to making him feel normal again after years of fighting or if he had just reached a place he was ready to lay down his gun wasn’t fully clear even to himself. But the ache had gone out of his arm, and with it the perpetual urge to favor the damaged limb. It was _good_ to reach out with both hands again. 

“Why a black mage?” Barret asked as he deposited Reeve on the bed and knelt beside it, propping his chin on one hand thoughtfully while regarding the other man.

“I thought I’d put a devious spell on you,” Reeve answered, pushing himself up onto his elbows to meet Barret’s gaze. 

“Heh. You did that a long time ago.” With his free hand, he tugged at the loose belt of Reeve’s costume. The light fabric had done nothing to conceal Reeve’s interest in their position, tenting obscenely until Barret pushed it back to reveal nothing but Reeve underneath. 

“You really _weren’t_ ever planning on coming downstairs, were you?” Barret accused him, but he was smiling, and Reeve offered as much of a shrug as he could manage from where he was propped on his elbows. 

“I told you Cait has it covered. I haven’t seen you in weeks.” 

Any play at contrition that Reeve might have shown quickly disappeared as Barret leaned up over the bed, watching closely as he leaned near enough to puff hot breath over the head of Reeve’s cock, inspiring small noises of encouragement from the man even as his eyes went dark and wanting. 

Instead of immediately taking Reeve into his mouth, Barret regarded him and hummed thoughtfully. Then, dropped his head to press against the newly hairless, soft skin of Reeve’s inner thigh. 

Reeve jerked and squirmed away, “Ah, that’s really sensitive.” 

Barret grin and laughed softly, then leaned in to do it again, placing a line of wet kisses up the inside of Reeve’s leg.

“Ah, Barret, no, stop, your beard tickles, it’s too sensitive.” 

Barret wrapped his hands over Reeve’s hips to hold him in place, making a point of it to drag his face over the bare skin a few more times while Reeve writhed and made a truncated keening noise before announcing, “The wax was a _terrible_ idea.” 

“It was a _great_ idea,” Barret countered before pressing his nose to the warm space at the base of Reeve’s cock, breathing him in deeply, “I thought you did this for me?”

When Reeve’s breath hitched, Barret pulled back and gave him some space to breathe. The man’s chest heaved and his hands dug white knuckled into the sheets, cock bobbing proudly up toward his navel. 

“Hey, you alright?” Barret asked. 

Gradually Reeve raised his gaze to focus on him as if from some great distance, “Yes, Good. Really good. Just intense.” 

Barret grinned, “Good to know.” 

Then, he took Reeve into his mouth, watching him carefully for reaction. They had been learning one another slowly over the past months, learning each other’s preferences and responses in the scarce moments they could find to themselves. A few awkward starts had led into tentative understanding. Barret knew that he could drive Reeve crazy with pressure against his perineum, that he’d enjoy a finger or two inside, after he relaxed, but that teasing the puckered muscle of his opening was too distracting. He knew that a press of his tongue against Reeve’s slit at the upstroke would push him over the edge if he was close. 

It wasn’t long before Reeve was keening, one hand moving to twist in Barret’s short hair. Not pressing, asking but not demanding, thoughtful even as he was coming undone. Barret hummed around the solid weight of Reeve’s cock, grinding himself against the side of the mattress in frustration but determined to wait, to see his lover finished and satiated before anything else. 

When Reeve came, biting onto his own wrist to muffle a shout as he shook apart for a brief weightless moment, Barret moved with him as he arched from the bed, then followed him back down as he collapsed boneless onto the mattress. 

Barret lifted his head to watch as Reeve’s breathing slowed, drawing soothing circles against his flanks as he returned to himself. 

After a long moment Reeve sat up, reaching out to touch Barret’s face. His thumb wiped at something heavy and thick on Barret’s lip, provoking him to grin and press his face into Reeve’s palm, sighing in contentment. 

“I missed you,” Barret told him, sentiment flowing easily with his lover half-wrecked in front of him, his own arousal still a heavy throb low in his belly. 

Reeve choked a little, colouring and glancing down at himself with a small grimace as he seemed to take stock of the situation with a clearing head.

“I missed you, too,” he admitted after a pause, “an awful lot.” 

Reeve shivered when Barret inched forward to place a final kiss like a punctuation point at the base of his cock before crawling up the bed and leaning himself on one elbow, grin still firmly in place.

Distantly below them there was a sound of something breaking, and a round of raucous laughter, reminding them that there was a party still going on at the bar below them. 

“You’re still dressed like Robin Hood,” Reeve observed.

“Yep,” Barret agreed, “It is Halloween, after all.” 

Reeve twisted so that his leg pressed solidly against Barret’s erection, sending an encouraging thrill of arousal through him. He sucked in a breath. 

“Gonna be hard to take care of that with all your clothes on,” Reeve prompted him. 

“I guess I should get undressed, huh?” 

“Well, I suppose it is Halloween. You can leave the hat on.”


End file.
